


Swallowed the Sun

by lorelai_la_lionne



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Submission, Pack in College, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Supernatural Elements, The Hale Fire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-06-28 15:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15709818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorelai_la_lionne/pseuds/lorelai_la_lionne
Summary: “Do you want to know how you'll die, Derek?” Clara gave a nasty smile. The bonfire gave her teeth an eerie gleam. Derek’s nostrils flared in anger. He shook his head. Stiles eyes were sharp, cataloguing her expressions and movement.“I’ve always known how I’ll die. That’s the first thing you learn.” She gave a bitter laugh, pressing a wet hand to her side to stanch the flow from the deep wound.“You’ve also said that things can change.” Derek growled around his enlarged canines.Clara considered the body that lay before them, a growing pool of dark blood against the soft dirt of the Preserve. “But then I’d have to break my vow.” She said unaffectedly.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> No set update schedule. Life comes at you fast. No room for deadlines and commitments.
> 
> I've only seen a few episodes, but this is my favorite fandom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prologues are skippable, right?

Clara cut through the forest, feeling the breath of danger against the nape of her neck. Her chest heaved, lungs aching with the frigid night air. There was no path to follow. Branches and leaves showed her arms no mercy as she tried to protect her face. She didn't have energy to evade this predator much longer.

 

There.

 

Fate led her to a large house. Most of the windows were darkened, but a beacon of light called to her on the second floor. Clara called out as loud as she could, but she was out of breath, and doubted anyone heard.

 

Without breaking stride, Clara made a beeline for the front door. She stumbled over the porch steps as she vaulted over them. She reached for the knob, fearing it would be locked. All would be lost.

 

A vicious snarl came from behind her as her hand turned the knob. A sob tore through her- it wouldn't budge. Clara turned to meet her demise, leaning away from it and into the door.

 

Two threads, blood red and black as the crow, bound Clara and the wolf. The threads snapped and pulsated as they shortened in length. She closed her eyes and accepted defeat. She was not afraid of death, but of the consequences left in her void. The wolf leisurely stalked forward, enjoying its kill.

 

The front door opened behind Clara. She fell backwards with a surprised cry. In front of her, death and pain. Behind her, a saving grace. She scrambled backwards, still on the ground, watching as the wolf furiously lept towards her. The wolf seemed suspended mid-air, mouth open wide, saliva dripping down its long teeth.

 

Clara woke with a start. Her fingers spasming as they clutched her erratic heart, sure that it was about to leave the confines of her body. The vision had reverberated through her dreams for months. She looked at her clock and tried for timing deep, calming breaths.


	2. The Book Thief

It was closing time, a soft sunset settled over the rows of books as Clara checked out the last library patron of the day. As she finished her duties and locked the doors, a thread appeared. Saffron. It wound around the stacks until she reached a book in the 700 section. The thread led her to something about landscaping, she turned it over in her hands as if that would answer her questions.

 

She looked around for another thread, but found none. Her eyes closed briefly as grief washed over her. When her eyes opened, a man stood before her. Clara pursed her lips as her eyes caught on something between them, “How can I help you?” 

 

An odd look came over him. “Do you have anything on rebuilding wildlife?” He kept his distance, his voice quiet. 

 

“Here. This one was calling out to be read today.” Clara said lightly, holding the landscaping book out. He looked at it blankly, and cleared his throat. 

 

“I don’t have a card.” He said, as though the thought just occurred to him. 

 

“Well, I’ve already shut the system down for tonight. We’re technically closed. The doors being locked should have been a dead giveaway...” Clara looked deeply into his face, then glanced at the book title to make note of it. She took a deliberate step forward. “Tell you what. You give me your name, and you can bring this back to me directly when you’re done. If you want a library card later, you’re welcome to it.” 

 

The man looked surprised, then troubled. His gaze landed everywhere but her face as he uttered his name, “Derek Hale.” 

 

“Hello, Derek. My name is Clara.” She smiled at him. Derek glanced at her face and took the book, turning to leave. She stayed put. After a few steps, he turned back, looking uncomfortable. 

 

“You won’t get into any trouble.” Derek stated. 

 

“I’ll check it out under my name. If you don’t return it, I’ll have to pay for it. And the head librarian would be understandingly perturbed that her successor was a book thief.” Clara gave a small laugh, “But if you bring it, all will be fine.” 

 

Derek gave a quick nod, “I’ll be back.”

 

Clara turned back to the bookshelf as he walked away, the thread of periwinkle connecting them elongating the further he got from her before disappearing. 


	3. The Cottage

“Clara.” A man’s voice startled her from a memory. She had been standing outside the library for at least an hour. It was dark and cold. “What are you doing?” Derek probed, he stood in the parking lot, the street lamps casting a strange light over his face. 

 

Once she had closed up the library, a thread appeared, leading her to the drive thru book returns slot. Out of frustration, Clara would walk away, but still it bobbed in her view and led her back. She could not ignore it. 

 

“Oh, Derek. Are you here to return the book?” Clara smiled brightly as she shivered next to the book drop off. Her toes felt numb and her legs were stiff. It had been about six days since they met. “You’ve still got another week with it, if you like.”

 

Derek stayed silent as he came to stand a few feet from her. Her head tilted, brow furrowing in confusion. The fall field crickets chirped in the meadow by the library. Finally he broke.

 

“What are you doing.” His question that was not a question came flat and annoyed. 

 

“Not sure.” She admitted.

 

“Do you have a ride home?” He took a step closer. 

 

“Yes.” She lied. She knew next to no one here, and walked to work. Derek cocked his head and gave a face that implied he knew the falsehood. She rushed on, “What are you doing here? I work here, not too weird for me to be here after hours.” 

 

His gaze was piercing if not unfriendly, “Running.” She took in his attire, leather jacket and jeans, and decided not to comment. 

 

“How are your rebuilding efforts going?” Clara’s stomach gave a quiet growl as she asked. 

 

“Fine.” 

 

“You’re not one for small talk, huh?” She scrunched her face and closed one eye in what might have been a wink, if it were faster. Most of her movements were sluggish now. As if she were living in a separate plane and lagged behind the real world. 

 

“I am…” Derek’s throat bobbed as if it pained him to say it, “concerned.” 

 

Clara blinked at that. She turned to look for the moss green thread leading her to the location in the first place. It had disappeared. In its place, two threads intertwined. Periwinkle and lemon, their respective fate threads, winked around the corner of library. “Walk me home?” She stepped to follow the path, knowing he would follow. 

 

“Your ride will be disappointed.” Derek muttered, vexed at her, keeping pace behind her. 

 

Clara laughed, clear and uninhibited, “Yes, well. My mother has been overbearing recently. I’ve gotten used to deflecting things like that. Sorry that I lied.” They were silent through the woods for a stretch. Derek brought up the rear, his head moving this way and that as he kept watch. 

 

“Where the hell do you live?” He practically growled. 

 

They had been walking ten minutes and were about halfway there. “There’s a clearing up ahead. It’s small, but I like it. Took me a while to get used to the quiet. I lived in a city before this.” Clara sighed softly, “I like to call it The Cottage. Makes me feel like I’m living in a fairytale.”

 

He made a sound akin to a grunt. 

 

Everything was dark. After six months of walking this path, Clara didn’t need to see. The threads got shorter and shorter until they reached her front door. The door was a deep blue, hardly visible in the crescent moon. She flipped the front porch light switch and turned back, “Thank you.”

 

Derek nodded slowly and carefully, “You shouldn’t walk home so late.”

 

“You’re welcome to accompany me any time.” Clara’s eyes drooped, “I’d invite you in, but I think I’d fall asleep.” He jerked back, but she didn't notice through her yawn. “Good night, Derek.” Clara opened her door and when she entered and turned back to close it, he was gone. 


	4. Scaring the Villagers

The next day, the sun having set an hour before, Derek appeared at the library. Clara gave a serene smile and gestured to the path. “Hello, again.” Her voice sounded like an embrace. Derek gave a terse nod as they started walking. “How was your day?” 

 

He hesitated, “Fine. I think I’m finished with the book.” Derek walked next to her, eyes darting back and forth over the meadow they passed through. Clara made a sound of interest. 

 

“Did it help?” Her eyes had adjusted to the night, but not enough to read his expressions. 

 

“Yes.” They let the conversation lull. As they got to the front door, Clara opened it and flipped the lights on. She turned to thank him again, but he had an agitated expression. 

 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, her brows furrowing. 

 

“Why don’t you lock your door.” His voice was clipped. 

 

Clara turned to look at the blue door, confused, then turned back to him and chuckled. “I have keys, just… If someone wants any of this they can have it. There’s not much...” 

 

Derek looked more upset by this, “What if it’s not stuff they want.”

 

She paused, and gave him a measured look. “Then it would be fate and I wouldn’t fight it.”

 

This answer seemed to upset him more, “Fate or stupidity?” His eyes bored into her own, as if the intent alone could change her ways. 

 

“Perhaps both.” She replied sagely, a twinkle in her eye. He huffed and stalked away. 

 

Derek pointedly brought her a Beacon Hills keychain when he showed up to take her home again. She laughed and promised to use it. 

 

\----------

 

Monday morning, Clara finds the periwinkle thread leading her through the stacks to the circulation desk. “Good morning, Derek!” 

 

He turned to her, looking harangued. “You weren’t here yesterday.” The technician at the desk looks between them flabbergasted. 

 

“Sometimes I get days off. Usually Sunday. ‘Cause we’re closed.” Clara quipped, her eyes bright and mouth upturned. “What can I help you with?”

 

Derek scowled, “I want a card…” He thrust the landscaping book at her. 

 

Clara moved around the desk and told the technician she’d take over. After the tech left, she pulled out the form and a pen. “You fill this out, and I’ll check your book in.” Derek gave the pen a look, and pulled out his own. They worked quietly, until she handed him a card and a permanent marker and told him to sign it. 

 

“Unless you have your own Sharpie in there, too.” Clara’s lips twitched in amusement. 

 

He gave her an unimpressed look and signed the small, plastic card. He dropped the marker on the table and wiped his hand on his dark jeans. Clara gave him a serious look, eyes flickering between his own, “Thank you for bringing this back. I appreciate it.”

 

“Sure.” He looked uncomfortable again. Not meeting eyes again, he mumbled, “Thanks for. Letting me have it.”

 

“Well,” she drew out, “now you don’t need me! You can come in any time you want and check out our marvelous collection. Or go online and browse our audio and ebooks.” 

 

He rolled his eyes, “I’ll see you tonight.” 

 

“I’m out of here around two, actually. It’s the senior librarian’s day off.” She coughs, “We could have a late lunch if you want?” 

 

Derek made a miserable expression, “Uh, I can’t. I’ve got a…” 

 

“That’s fine. Come over for dinner. It’s Shepherd's pie night.” Clara said, completely unperturbed. A young mother dragging a toddler walked up to the desk with a few children’s books in tow. Derek spun to exit quickly without answering. 

 

The mother glanced between Clara and his retreating figure, seemingly frightened, “Was that Derek Hale? What did he want?” 

 

“He’s my friend.” Clara said brightly, “He’s the sweetest! Are you guys ready to check out?”


	5. Secrets

“Isaac? You okay?” Stiles squawked at the sigh coming from under him. His vision faltered when Isaac pulled off of him and down into the bed, seeing blood staining his cock and leaking out of Isaac. 

 

“It’ll heal. I’m fine.” Isaac huffed and tugged Stiles down to snuggle with him. 

 

Stiles took deep breaths and hugged tightly to Isaac’s naked chest. “What happened?” 

 

“Your heart was going crazy.” Isaac replied. His voice barely hiding his growing disappointment and frustration. 

 

“Sorry. I-” Stiles ran a hand through his hair, “I’m just not in the right mood.” 

 

“I know. I thought.. maybe, you know, you’d settle, but-”

 

“Sorry.” 

 

Isaac just shrugged and laid back on the crappy dorm bed. 

 

\----------

 

Derek showed up that night at six. Clara’s arms twitched as if she wanted to envelope him in a hug, but she just smiled widely, “I’m happy you’re here.”

 

“Sure.” He stomped over to the round, wood table in the kitchen. With a flourish of her hand she locked the door and would have sworn a hint of a smile peaked out behind his gruff expression. 

 

“Wasn’t sure when you’d be here. It’s already done. My family always ate late. Are you hungry?” Derek nodded. She bustled around, grabbing the food from the stovetop and setting a glass of water in front of him. 

 

She sat down and waited for him to take a bite before tucking in. Derek raised an eyebrow and gave a quiet compliment to her food. He took his time surveying the inside of her cottage. 

 

The walls were bare, painted a cream color. It was an ‘L’ shape with the offset most likely being a bedroom and adjoining bathroom. The furniture was sparse. A couch. The table they were sitting at eating. Shelves built into the wall with a few books. The only real personal touch was a basket of knitting supplies.

 

“How long have you lived here?” Derek asked in a mild tone. 

 

“Nearly nine months. Worked at the library for about five. Took about a month to pester the old lady into hiring me. Not that I’m unqualified, I have a masters and all that jazz. I chose this house because it was so close… And secluded.” Clara didn’t look up from her food. 

 

“What did you do for the first few that you didn’t work?” His eyes narrowed as he frowned. 

 

“Mostly nothing. Only went into town for food. If you’re wondering why you didn’t see me around, that is.” She gave him a furtive smile. “What do you do, Derek? I don’t know much about you. Except that you scared my tech when you came in and you’re obsessed with landscaping. Literally obsessed. You can’t shut up about it.” She barked out a laugh. 

 

He leveled an unruffled look at her, “I’m rebuilding my childhood home. It was destroyed a long time ago.” 

 

She digested this information, “I can help. Even if don’t know how to garden or do woodworking or whatever, I like to- I’m good at following directions.” Her heart rate rose and she put down her fork. He noticed a flush to her cheeks, but said nothing. Derek continued to eat as she sat, fiddling with her cloth napkin. 

 

“I could use help.” He said softly, making an aborted movement to still her hands. 

 

Clara looked up and gave a small smile, “Alright.” 

 

“Are you finished?” He challenged, raising an eyebrow and looking at her half-eaten plate. She shook her head and began eating.

 

They held an easy back and forth until Derek's seconds we're finished and Clara sat content. 

 

“What do you do for fun?” She mildly questioned. Derek considered his answer while she cleared the table. 

 

“Run.”

 

“One of those, huh?” Her nose scrunched up in distaste before turning to put the last of the dishes in the sink. 

 

“Do you have work tomorrow?” He asked abruptly. 

 

“No, Sundays and Tuesdays are my own.” 

 

“I’ll be here at sunup. Wear something athletic.” Derek said with decisiveness. The back of her neck tingled as he stood and went for the door. “Thank you for dinner.” 

 

“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.” He unlocked the door and left. 

 

\----------

 

Clara woke suddenly, before her alarm, panting from her dream. It was still dark out as she got dressed. She sat on her porch and stretched, watching the sun rise as Derek joined her. His nostrils flared at the leftover acrid scent of fear as he came close, “Ready?” 

 

She nodded, feeling reserved. Derek’s hand rested on the crook of her arm, steering her to the path behind the cottage. Clara’s eyes went unfocused at the electric feel of his skin. Derek sneezed suddenly as the smell of sweet burning overcame him. It was gone as soon as it arrived. 

 

Clara looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time. 

 

He began leading them on their run. 

 

\----------

 

“Fuck, I’m out of shape. I know literally everyone says that after they run for the first time in fuck-all months, but I  _ mean _ !” Clara wheezed, hands clutching her knees as her legs quivered. For the most part, Derek hadn’t broken a sweat, obviously setting an easy pace for himself.

 

“You did good.” He insisted, with one corner of his mouth smiling. 

 

“Maybe next time I’ll do better and get a full smile out of you.” Clara sounded pathetic as she giggled between gulping breaths. 

 

“Come in for some water. You need to hydrate.”

 

“Are you a coach for your day job? You always had-” Clara paused for breath as she followed him into the cottage, “something encouraging to say when I was flagging.” She thought of his ‘keep it up’s and ‘almost there’s. 

 

He opened her cabinet and ran the sink, “Sip this. Don’t just chug, you’ll want to vomit...”

 

She took the glass and sat on the floor, hoping the cool wood would soothe her red, angry skin and muscles. “And you do this for fun? Take flabby, gross old women out for runs to watch them suffer?” 

 

Derek rolled his eyes, “None of that is true.”

 

“Nuh-uh. I’m a woman.”

 

“How old are you?” He demanded. 

 

“Twenty-five.” 

 

“That’s not old. You’re practically a baby.”

 

“Oh, yeah? You’re, what, sixteen? How would you know! I’m old. Old, old, old.”

 

At this Derek snatched the empty glass back, “I’m only two years older than you. Shut up, whippersnapper.” This struck her as hilarious, and she clutched her stomach laughing and in pain from the effort. He pushed the glass back under her nose, filled again. He stood over and watched as she slowly drank.

 

“This was… fun.” She said decidedly, “Pleasant, even. We should go again.” The exertion had cleared her mind. The painful push of muscles felt like a penance. 

 

He nodded slowly, “I’d like that. There’re some developers coming this week. So, I’ll be busier than normal.”

 

“Here,” Clara got up from the floor and moved towards her cell phone, “you can have my number. In case.”

 

Derek fished his own out from his pocket and, as she looked hers up, he teased, “You don’t have it memorized? It’s only ten digits.” 

 

“Oh,” she gave a nervous laugh, “it’s rather new. And I haven’t had the opportunity to give it to too many people. There you go.” She put it on the counter nearest him. “Wow, my flip looks so ancient by your smartphone.” 

 

“What’s your last name?” Derek asked casually, as he input the information. He noticed her hesitation, and stiffened, listening intently to her heart. 

 

“Valentine.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. He heard no lie, but didn’t relax.

 

“Now a picture.” He intoned snapping one before she could say no. 

 

“Ack! I’m all sweaty and gross!” She lurched forward to delete it, but he evaded and ducked out the door, the grin not meeting his eyes. 


End file.
